Firelight
by Raberba girl
Summary: Modern fantasy fusion AU. Fifteen-year-old Hiccup comes to live with his mother in the middle of nowhere, never dreaming that some of the residents of this small town hold secrets he could have never imagined. NO SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

Firelight

(rough draft)

A DreamWorks' How to Train Your Dragon crossover fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: Modern fantasy crossover AU. Fifteen-year-old Hiccup comes to live with his mother in the middle of nowhere, never dreaming that some of the residents of this small town hold secrets he could have never imagined. NO SLASH.

A/N: I'm not going to say what the crossover series is, but many of you can probably guess.

 **Chapter 1**

I have never in my life managed to be on the same page as my father, but last week we had The Fight To End All Fights. I'd actually been hoarse the next day from shouting so much; Dad hadn't once looked me in the eye and had barely spoken to me since then. Our fury at each other was still simmering beneath the surface, sizzling in my glares and his mountainous silences, so I thought I'd be able to leave Berk without a second thought or backward glance.

That's why I was surprised to feel a twinge of heartache when Dad marched me up to the airport doors and then loomed glowering at me for what might very well be the last time in years.

I stared back up at him, trying to hold onto my anger but not quite succeeding. "...Well."

"Well," he said gruffly. "I suppose this is goodbye." He thrust out his hand, which was so large it encased the hands of ordinary-sized men and practically drowned my own. "Say hi to your mother for me."

As opposed to what? "Yeah." I shook his hand, trying not to wince at how hard he unintentionally squeezed. When he started to let go, I found myself holding on to his hand (well, his finger, since that was the only bit my own hand was big enough to grasp). He looked at me in surprise. "Dad...I'm sorry."

His expression immediately transformed from thundering anger to awkward discomfort. "...Me, too."

I let go, but we still stood there for several long seconds, staring at the ground. Finally I hitched my backpack a little higher over my shoulder. "Well...bye, I guess."

"Yes. ...See you at Snoggletog, perhaps."

"... _Maybe_ ," I hedged.

"Hmm."

It was about as close to making up as we were going to get, but I didn't regret my decision to leave home and go live with my mother for the remaining years I had before reaching legal adulthood. Dad and I did make up a lot, but we _always_ ended up fighting again, and I was just so, so tired of it. I couldn't stand living any longer with someone who, no matter how hard he tried or how much he cared (and I know he did care, despite everything), seemed incapable of ever understanding or accepting me. It was a dismal prospect to exile myself to a remote corner of the country and a parent who _didn't_ care - she and my father, though still technically married, had separated when I was a baby, and my mother had refused to take me with her. Yet I'd rather live with someone who'd tolerate my presence and stay out of my business than someone who constantly tried to break me down and remake me into the kind of son I can never, ever be.

I sighed. "Bye, Dad."

"Goodbye, son."

I turned and walked into the airport. I refused to look back, and refused to look back...but then at the last second, I stole a glance over my shoulder - and was shocked to see the brokenhearted expression on my father's face. Before I could look more closely to figure out whether the glint on his cheeks was from tears or just a trick of the light, he hastily ducked back into the car.

I watched until he'd driven away, then sighed again and moved on. I was starting my life over from scratch, leaving the harsh but familiar snow-battered city of Berk for a blazing hellhole in the middle of nowhere where the temperature rarely made it below 70 degrees Fahrenheit. There was no point in either mourning what I left behind or nursing hope for whatever might lie ahead.

 _'Less than three more years to suffer, Hiccup. Then you can choose your own life and be whoever you want to be.'_

o.o.o.o.o

When I got off the plane, Mom, to my surprise and relief, was already waiting for me. She immediately surprised me again by smiling at me, though the expression was uncertain and a little awkward. I tried to smile back as I approached, and stiffened in yet more surprise when she put her arms around me and squeezed. "Hello, Hiccup," she greeted softly.

"H-Hey, Mom." Although we talked over the phone or live video every few months, I'd only ever seen her in person two, maybe three times, ever. My impression of a woman too wrapped up in her own life to care about her son in anything more than an obligatory way was starting to crumble when I realized how glad she actually was to see me. For the first time, I wondered if she kept her distance more because she didn't know how to be a good mother than because she didn't want to be.

She started backward and smoothed back a stray tendril of hair that was falling out of her messy ponytail. "I-I'm sorry; do you prefer Hadley now?"

I shrugged. "Don't call me Hiccup in front of other people, but it's fine if we're alone." I was used to the ridiculous nickname from my babyhood. I hated it when my classmates back home had used it to taunt me, but as long as there was no malice in it, like when Dad and Uncle Gobber called me that, it didn't bother me. I just didn't want the locals here in Helheim's Gate to get wind of it - one of the handful of perks about my self-imposed exile was that maybe I'd have a chance at _not_ being the school reject this time.

Mom smiled at me again. Despite the complete absence of makeup, her slightly weathered face, the rumpled and stained clothes that looked suitable for a barnyard, and even the strong smell of animals she exuded, there was something warm and appealing about her. Something motherly, even though she'd never been a mother to me in anything but name. Maybe I'd feel more comfortable around her than I thought. "Hiccup, then. Let's go...home."

"Yeah." _'That's right,'_ I reminded myself. _'Helheim's Gate is home now.'_

Mom drove with the windows open, obviously savoring the fresh air. I wished she wouldn't, because it made the air conditioning a lot less effective, but I didn't say anything, and she let me crank up the A/C as far as it would go. I was still sweating in minutes, though, and feeling a little nauseous and faint by the time we reached the house - I wasn't used to this _heat_. I don't sweat all that much, so it surprised me that the back and underarms of my T-shirt were drenched with perspiration when I stumbled out of the car. With my skinny limbs and almost unhealthy lack of body fat, I thought I hadn't handled Berk's infamous winters well, sometimes having to skip school during the coldest weeks so I could huddle in bed with heaps of blankets and a blasting heater - but compared to the suffocating heat here in Helheim's Gate, I'd take the bone-chilling cold any day. I wondered how long it would take my body to adjust, or if it ever would.

Mom finally noticed when we were hauling my luggage out of the trunk. "Are you all right, Hiccup?"

"Does your house have air conditioning?" I panted desperately.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, sounding surprised.

"A lot of houses in Berk don't," I explained.

"Oh." She smiled a little. "Well, you're in Helheim now. Air conditioning is a basic requirement in every building."

"Good...!"

When we got halfway across the yard, a sudden furious barking started up from behind the house. I was alarmed when the sounds rapidly approached, and I shamelessly dropped my luggage and ducked behind Mom when two large dogs came pelting around the house and barreled straight toward me, bellowing for all they were worth. One of them only had three legs, but that didn't seem to hinder him from racing almost alongside his four-footed companion.

"RUMPUS, LUMP," Mom bellowed, " _DOWN_."

The dogs stopped dead for a moment. Then they ducked their heads and whined and tip-toed diffidently toward us, their bright eyes fixed on me but their body language submissive to Mom's voice.

"Doooowwwnnn," Mom said in a firm, warning tone.

The three-legged dog reluctantly lay down; the other stopped and made indecisive dipping movements, apparently trying to decide whether to continue in her desire to investigate the intruder or obey her human pack leader.

Mom marched forward, and at the first step, the second dog flopped down beside the first. Mom loomed over them for a long minute, as they both looked up at her with wagging tails and chastenedly-positioned ears and hopeful doggy smiles. Then Mom finally relaxed and said in a chipper tone, "Good dogs!" They leaped up and pranced around her for a minute, then turned and went still to sniff at me intently.

"Hi, guys," I said, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. Not that it probably helped; dogs could smell fear, couldn't they?

"Hiccup is my son," Mom crooned, hugging me and even nuzzling me as if she was a dog herself. "My baby that I love."

The dogs looked up at us and cautiously wagged their tails.

"Be nice to him."

The unmaimed dog barked. The other one made a friendly sound and pressed his head against my knee. Feeling better, I leaned down to pet them, and they licked me enthusiastically in return.

"This one is Rumpus, and the one with three legs is Lump," Mom said. "Come on; let's get your stuff inside and I'll introduce you to the others."

I hoped 'others' didn't mean more territorial dogs.

The animals followed us eagerly as we brought my things inside. Mom's house was old, comfortable and creaky with a lot of character: lots of wood paneling and antique-looking appliances. I heard a birdlike cawing sound from another room, but couldn't see what had made the noise.

Mom helped me start to unpack in the spare bedroom upstairs, and as I turned to put an armful of socks in a drawer, I was startled by a gray cat who had soundlessly materialized on the windowsill next to the bureau. It started backward at my surprised yelp, then sniffed at the air and climbed, unexpectedly awkwardly for a cat, onto the bureau toward Mom.

"Hello, lovely," Mom crooned, presenting her fingers before the cat's nose for a moment before scratching its head. It pushed closer into her palm and purred. "This is Gruff," Mom said. "He's very friendly, but he's blind, so be careful when you approach him. He might scratch if he's startled."

I looked from the cat's clouded eyes to Lump's missing leg. "Are all your pets rescues?"

"Almost all, yes."

Most of my luggage consisted of my projects, which I preferred to unpack and find places for myself, so Mom and I finished with my clothes and stuff pretty quickly. We went downstairs so she could show me the rest of the house. There wasn't much - other than a bathroom and Mom's room down the hall from mine upstairs, on the first floor there was just the small kitchen with a washing machine squeezed into one corner (no dryer), and an only marginally bigger living room. Mom led me through it, pausing to sprinkle fish food into a large aquarium before stepping outside.

In the huge back yard was a set of clotheslines with some sheets pinned to them, as well as a large corral, inside which a black gelding was grazing. He lifted his head and trotted to the fence as we approached, stretching his nose toward Mom and whickering.

"Hello~ beautiful." Mom lovingly stroked the horse's forehead and then turned to me. "This is Sailback." She seemed so self-assured with all the animals in a way she wasn't with humans.

"Hi, Sailback." The horse butted his head into my chest and I obligingly stroked his face, relaxing when he closed his eyes in pleasure. He seemed nice, which was good because he was so _big_ compared to me. "Anyone else I need to meet?"

"Just Thump. I think she's somewhere in the house right now - she pretty much comes and goes as she pleases, but it's dangerous for her to be out at night because she can't fly."

"Fly?"

"Yes, poor thing... I rescued her from a trap, but her wing was permanently damaged, so she lives with me now for the most part."

I saw what Mom meant when I went back up to my room. A crow with one normal wing and one sliced-short one was in my room, curiously tugging and poking at some of my things with her beak.

"Nah, ah, ah, leave those alone," I said, flapping my hands mildly at her.

She fluttered clumsily to the desk, looking startled, but then perched there at a safe distance and watched with interest as I rummaged around, looking for places to store my works in progress. I kept in mind the fact that I needed to keep my work out of reach of all the animals.

"Some of these are delicate," I explained as if the bird could understand. "You have to be careful with them."

She chirped in reply, and I found myself smiling even though I didn't speak crow.

Around six o'clock, Mom came up with a stack of worn pamphlets. "What would you like for dinner, Hiccup? You can choose anything you want, I like all of these places."

I stared at her for a minute, confused, then looked at the pamphlets she was offering me and realized what she meant. "We're ordering takeout tonight?"

There was a pause. "Er... Well, I'm not the best cook, so..." She fidgeted. It dawned on me that she wasn't ordering out because of the special occasion of my arrival; apparently she did this every night. Maybe even for every meal.

"Um... Yeah, sure. Takeout sounds great." I looked through the pamphlets and picked out something that looked appetizing. She looked relieved that I didn't comment on her lack of housewifely skills.

"All right, well, I'll go back down and call. Most places are good about delivering quickly, so you won't be hungry for long. We can watch TV while we eat, if you like- Er, well, I don't get many channels, but I have a few movies-? Well, probably not ones you'd be interested in..."

I tried to give her a reassuring smile. "It's fine, Mom."

I helped her feed the animals, and our own food delivery arrived when we were almost done. Mom was right - the only clear channels her ancient television received were the local news station and one that was currently playing a sitcom re-run; none of the handful of videos in her electronics cabinet looked remotely interesting to me. Still, I sat through an old black and white film, not sure who the characters were or what they were trying to do. I picked at my food and exchanged about three sentences total with Mom, occasionally petting or sneaking food to the dog lying on my feet or the bird that hopped back and forth between Mom and me. It wasn't the most enjoyable meal in the world, but it wasn't horrible, which about summed up my impression of Helheim's Gate so far.

With nothing else really to do after I'd helped Mom clean up, I decided to go to bed early, but I couldn't sleep. I turned my bedside lamp back on and started writing and doodling in my journal, but it was hard to concentrate. I was _hot_. I could hear the air conditioner running, but it didn't seem to be doing much good. I'm the kind of guy who wears pajamas to bed, but I was so uncomfortable that I started shedding bits of clothing until I was sprawled on top of my sheets wearing nothing but boxers - yet I _still_ felt sticky and miserable. "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd actually miss Berk's weather."

I must have managed to fall asleep at some point, because I suddenly opened my eyes to find my lamp still on and a lump of fur snuggled up against me, practically radiating heat. "Uuugghhh, Rumpus, you're a nice dog, but it is _way_ too hot for cuddles..."

o.o.o.o.o

Mom was already gone by the time I got up the next morning. She'd left me a couple of boxes of cereal, some packaged muffins, and bread for toast on the kitchen table, along with a note. She'd apparently ridden Sailback and taken both dogs with her to the ranch where she worked, but Gruff and Thump were still around to beg tidbits from me even though the note said that they and the fish had already been fed. I didn't mind slipping them some treats. Thump pecked tidily at the pile of crumbs I sprinkled on the table for her, and Gruff purred in my lap after I had fed him a couple of blueberries from a muffin.

After a quick shower, I had a hard time deciding what to wear. It was too dang hot for jeans, but I was too skinny to look good in shorts. I puttered around, brushing my hair and teeth, packing my schoolbag, and shooing the inquisitive Thump away from my stuff, then at the last minute decided to go with jeans. First impressions were more important than comfort, and I _had_ to do everything I could to avoid getting labeled as a loser from the start.

I took my time getting ready because I was dreading school. It would probably be different here in this small town than it was in Berk, but my unpleasant past experiences still made me feel nervous and unwell. "Maybe I can just skip... Not like Mom'll know the difference, if she'll be back home as late as she said she would." But no, everyone talked to everyone in small towns; she'd probably find out soon if I skipped school. I sighed, slung my backpack over my shoulder, locked the door with the spare key Mom had left for me, and set out for the bus stop where (Mom said) the dirt trail that led to her house met the nearest public road. It was a half-mile hike. There were no other kids there, so I really hoped I was in the right spot... Well, no, wait; if I was in the wrong spot to be picked up, then I'd have a legitimate reason for missing school.

Unfortunately, the bus arrived about ten minutes later and laboriously squealed to a halt in front of me. I climbed up the steps nervously and was glad to find that there were only two other kids on the bus, one sleeping and the other closed into her private world with earbuds. I choose a seat roughly equidistant between them, considered digging out a book to read, then decided I'd be too nervous to concentrate and that it'd be better to watch and evaluate people as they got on.

Things ended up being less dramatic than that. Because I was the new kid, several people clustered in the seats around me and asked me questions, but no one was rude or overly invasive. At one point, two guys a couple of seats away from me started up some kind of noisy game, and everyone else forgot about me as they started cheering and jeering and egging on either one or the other.

At school, the front office wasn't hard to find, and since Mom had already done the bulk of the enrollment paperwork for me, the rest didn't take long. I folded my class schedule in my hand so that my clueless newbie status hopefully wouldn't be more obvious than it had to be, and started searching for my first class.

I made it there before the first bell rang, but close enough that people didn't have time to get too interested in the new kid, which was the first hurdle cleared. The class itself wasn't intimidating - it looked like I'd already studied most of this stuff back in Berk - and afterward, a heavyset boy with blond hair leaned over to smile at me. "Hey. You're Hadley Vast, right? Valka's son?"

"Yeah," I said cautiously, but the guy had an open, earnest face, and his good will seemed genuine.

"I'm Lex Ingerman," he said, holding out a hand that was big enough to be comparable to my dad's. "You can call me Fish."

"Hi, um, Fish." His stylish real name seemed at odds with his nerdy looks - the nickname suited him better. Though I was grateful for his friendliness, I wondered if it was safe to allow him to befriend me. I'd learned the hard way in Berk that I'd suffer if I didn't make the right social connections.

"You need help finding your next class?"

"I'm pretty sure I got the hang of the building numbers. The school's not too big, so I don't think I'll get lost."

"Well, I'll walk you anyway; couldn't hurt."

"Uh...sure."

When we stepped outside, I was dismayed to feel how hot the sun already was, practically soaking into the bare skin of my arms even though it wasn't even quite midmorning yet. To try to take my mind off the heat, I paid extra attention to what Fish was talking about, which turned out to be a shared interest - robotics. I tried to keep my voice neutral without sounding outright bored, undecided yet about the befriending thing. If we did end up becoming friends, there'd be time enough later to geek out freely.

"So this is a lot different than where you're from, huh?" he said, finally changing the subject.

"Definitely. Winter's still going strong up there."

He laughed. "You're so skinny; how do you handle the blizzards and stuff?"

"Surprisingly well, in hindsight. Here, man... If it feels like this _now_ , the flesh will probably be melting off my bones by lunchtime."

"Heh, you'll get used to it. Drink lots of water, okay? We've had visitors pass out before."

"I'll keep that in mind..."

Things went okay until the class right before lunch. Fish was there, but he sat across the room from me, and the guy in the seat next to mine grinned at me when I sat down with a gleam in his eyes that I recognized all too well. "So you're the new kid, huh?" His tone was challenging and a little eager, as if he was looking for a way to turn a simple introduction into a fight.

I tried to straighten my shoulders and speak confidently. "I'm Hadley Vast."

" _Hadley_? _Haaaad_ ley. Naw, man, I heard that Valka's cutsey-wootsey little runt's name is _Hiccup_."

I tried hard not to let my horror show on my face, but I don't think I succeeded.

He laughed in delight. "HICCUP, so great to _meet_ you," he gushed with false enthusiasm, thumping my back so hard I was practically thrown across the surface of my desk and choked a bit trying to get my breath back.

Luckily, the bell rang just then and sort of put a pause on my torment (the guy, whose name turned out to be Scott, still managed some obnoxious whispers and painful pokes with a pencil). Unfortunately, when we were dismissed, he caught me before I could escape and pretty much dragged me to the cafeteria with his beefy arm painfully tight around my back, pinning my arms to my sides. I was a little taller than him, but he was _way_ stronger than me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fish anxiously following us, but though Fish was a lot bigger and even stronger-looking than Scott, he seemed too timid to rescue me.

"Hey!" Scott hollered as he flung open the cafeteria doors, "Look at the fresh meat I caught!"

Most of the people in the cafeteria ignored him, but a few yelled and made catcalls. One table was particularly loud, and that was the one Scott hauled me over to. Most of the people gathered there were guys, at least as big and strong as Scott was. The only skinny people were a pair of similar-looking kids (siblings? Twins maybe, they looked so close in age) with long, greasy-looking fair hair, but their viciously sly expressions and tough, wiry bodies made them seem just as dangerous as their companions. Most of the group hooted loudly as Scott steered me to a chair and slammed me down into it. Since the guys on my right and immediately across from me were both sitting on the table, and the one on my left was on his feet, with Scott looming up behind my chair, I felt like I was drowning in thugs. I shot a desperate glance toward Fish, but while the blond quietly took a seat at the very end of the table, he seemed to otherwise be trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, and was doing surprisingly well for such a big guy.

"Ooohhh," the tough-looking girl twin sneered, leaning until she was practically in my face. "Looks like he should be with the little kiddies, not in high school."

"Little kids get snacks at the elementary school," her brother mused. His voice sounded surprisingly friendly when he addressed me, but there was something off about the quirk of his eyebrows. Unlike Fish's, this guy's friendliness was not something I could trust. "You got any snacks, toothpick-bro? They sell chips and stuff in the Extras line here, but they're always lame flavors or stale."

I miserably tried not to react as two or three pairs of hands searched all my pockets, dumping the meager pile of loot on the table. My pens and compass got immediately confiscated and squirreled away, never to be seen again.

"There's some gum," someone pointed out.

"Ooohh." The boy twin reached for it, but someone else grabbed it first, and he immediately made a theatrical-sounding call to war before flinging himself on the gum thief like an animal, with his sister cheering him on.

Around that point, a couple of teachers _finally_ intervened, and I managed to escape while the gang loudly protested. Fish caught me before I'd gone a few steps and hustled me toward one of the food lines. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "Scott and his gang are real jerks."

"Thanks for all your help," I said.

He flushed, not missing the dry resentment in my voice. "Hey," he said defensively, "there's only one of me and, like, ten of them."

I sighed and let it go, figuring that I might have done the same in his place. Forgiving him was also easier when he paid for my meal along with his own, since Scott's gang had stolen my lunch money during the rifling of my pockets. By the time I'd gotten my food and was following Fish to some empty seats far away from the gang, I'd decided to just give in and be friends with Fish. Scott and the others would probably torment me regardless of who my friends were, and at least I'd have _one_ ally if I stuck with Fish, even if he was useless in direct confrontations.

As I was calming down, just starting to register the tastes of the food I'd been eating, I looked around the cafeteria and happened to notice a group that stood out even more than Scott's did.

There were six of them, three boys and three girls sitting close together at a table in the farthest corner of the cafeteria. Unlike a lot of the other students, who kept glancing or staring at me and then whispering, this group didn't seem to have taken any notice of the new kid whatsoever. They were utterly absorbed in their own conversation, their bodies animated as they spoke, their laughter loud and their words, what little I caught of them over the noise of the cafeteria, not sounding like English.

The boy currently talking with accompanying expressive gestures was so big, tough-looking, and muscular that he looked like he could give Scott's gang a run for their money, perhaps even single-handedly. His skin, which was marked by scars big enough for me to see all the way from here, was a warm bronze color, his hair wildly styled and dyed red, orange, and yellow so that it looked like his head was on fire. He had multi-colored tattoos all over his body, a surprising number of them for such a young person.

Sitting next to him was a girl with gloriously beautiful honey-hued skin that literally sparkled - she must have glued rhinestones to herself or something similar. She had thick, long, shiny yellow hair that was exquisitely styled, and nails so bright with different colors and more rhinestones that I could see them flashing all the way on the other side of the cafeteria.

Next was a group of three - on either side, twins with neatly braided hair dyed green, the only fair-skinned ones in the group, looking even more similar to each other than the twins in Scott's gang did. These two sat strangely, almost creepily still, their gazes often fixated on various students in the cafeteria. They gave me an uneasy feeling, though I had no idea why. Their hands were clasped together behind the chair of the girl who sat between them, and their other hands grasped hers.

That girl, who nestled comfortably with the creepy twins like a mother hen with two edgy chicks, was heavyset but very shapely, and even more muscular and solid-looking than the flame-haired guy. She looked like she could easily hold her own in a boys' football game. Her skin was a rich, warm brown and her short hair was dark gold, tumbling around her head in fetching, artless curls. Her laugh, which was frequent and loud enough for me to hear clearly all the way over here, was very appealing and relaxing.

The third boy was so dark that his skin was almost literally black. That, combined with the decorative marks all over his body that looked like honest-to-God scarification, made me wonder if he was a foreigner or a recent immigrant rather than someone who'd been born and raised in this country. His hair was oddly styled in two braided clumps that looked almost like animal ears, and he seemed the most reserved of the group, almost sulky as he leaned against the rhinestone girl, who absently rested her arm around him.

Fish saw me looking. "Oh, _them_ ," he said knowingly. "Do yourself a favor and stay away from them."

"Rivals to Scott's gang?" I guessed.

"No - Scott and the others are jerks and you don't want to get caught by them, but at least they're normal, you know? The Wilder kids... They're just weird. Like, creepy weird, and _dangerous_. None of Scott's guys ever go near them, don't even say a word to them, except the Thorstons sometimes. Rumor has it the Wilder kids have actually killed people before."

"Seriously?" It sounded outrageous - after all, they were still only high school students - but somehow, I could believe it.

"I don't know. I mean, I've never heard it _confirmed_ , but...look at them. Especially Max, the African guy."

"He's from Africa, and his name is Max?"

"I don't know, it's probably been anglicized or something. Anyway, like, Mila's actually pretty nice, and Stormy - the sparkly one - ignores everyone but her siblings, she's real stuck-up, and the twins are creepy but at least always stay out of the way. The other two are the ones you really have to watch out for. Fang gets into a lot of fights, he's even hit girls before, and he'd make mincemeat of you in two seconds - though Mila and Stormy always keep an eye on him; they're pretty good at getting him under control quick whenever he loses it. Max is...I mean, I've never actually _seen_ him hurt anyone, but...well...those 'killed people before' rumors? They're really about him."

I swallowed, wondering if I dared risk another morbidly curious glance. "So they're called the Wilder kids?"

"They have their own surnames and stuff, but they're adopted by Alfred Wilder. He's a really nice guy, nothing like them - I mean, he's scary, too, but in a safe way, if that makes sense. Real friendly and all. Anyway, he has some kind of orphanage or something just outside town. Or a ranch, or...ranch/orphanage, or something."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ranch/orphanage?"

"Yeah. _Anyway_ , he's weird, too, but he's cool, and he keeps them under control for the most part. But he doesn't actually come to school with them, you know, so... Yeah, just stay away from them."

I tried to watch the incredibly exotic, almost inhumanly beautiful Wilder group again without looking like I was. "I've already got enough on my plate with Scott."

After lunch, Fish showed me to my next class, which was science, before heading off to his own. I walked into the room lost in thought, so it took me a minute to realize that Max the Wilder boy, the one I was supposed to avoid at all costs, apparently had this class at the same time I did. He was gazing out the window with his head resting on his arms, looking bored. Even though he hadn't noticed me yet, that could change at any moment, so I tried to stop myself from staring in a way he might find offensive. My resulting panicked glance around the room showed me, to my growing dismay, that the only empty seat was the one next to him.

I tried to act normal as I resumed walking toward the teacher so he could sign my new student form. After all, it wasn't like Max could murder me in the middle of class or anything. I'd just keep my head down, be polite, and make sure not to linger after the bell.

A good plan, but it fell to pieces the next moment. I had no idea why, but when I passed by Max's desk, he suddenly bolted upright as if struck by lightning, and pinned me with such an intense emerald-eyed glare - an intense, _exceedingly hostile_ emerald-eyed glare - that I froze in mid-step. I felt caught, like I couldn't move even if I tried, and something about the increasingly feral expression on his face was causing gut-wrenching terror to course through my entire body.

Just when I was genuinely convinced he was about to leap at me and rip out my throat with his teeth, he whirled, almost too fast for me to see the actual movement, and...crashed straight through the window he'd been gazing out of seconds before.

My whole body was shaking as I stared after his fleeing figure. He was so _fast_ , he'd crossed the entire school in seconds and was starting to get too far away to see. My legs were threatening to collapse under me, and everyone was yelling in shock and excitement. The teacher's voice thundered over the rest, warning everyone to get away from the broken glass.

Numbly, I complied with directions, and the teacher at last managed to get everyone seated - some people on stools beside the counters that lined the perimeter of the room - and started on some sort of assignment while he called the front office.

My concentration was completely shot, so it was good that the first part of the assignment was simply copying down vocabulary words. I did so slowly, my handwriting shakier than usual, wondering what in the world had just _happened_. Surely Max didn't react like that to everyone? Why me? Was it just because I was new? Why would a new student showing up in the middle of the school year freak him out enough to prompt literal murderous intent and then an epically dramatic escape?

I hadn't come up with any answers by the time the vice principal and custodian showed up to assess the damage. Since we students were all too distracted to pay attention to a lesson, the teacher pretty much just patrolled our work stations, helping us individually and, more often, keeping us on task as best he could. Meanwhile, the vice principal left and the custodian began sweeping up glass and fetching a sheet of plywood to temporarily patch the broken window.

 _'He hates me,'_ I found myself thinking. _'I don't know how the heck I even ended up on his radar, but for some reason, the most dangerous boy in school loathes my guts. ...On_ top _of Scott designating me his new punching bag.'_

Yep, this was shaping up to be a fantastic first day.

In gym, Fish found me and breathlessly demanded, with a mixture of disapproval and amazement, what in the world I had done to Max Fury. Not surprisingly, the story had apparently made it all the way around school by now.

"I have _no freaking idea_. I just _walked into class_ , I swear I didn't say a word to him, I don't _think_ he even noticed me looking at him, but he just took one look at me and went crazy. I have no idea. I have no freaking clue, Fish."

When I went to the front office at the end of the day to turn in my new student form, I was shocked at first to see _Dad_ there, of all people - surely he hadn't somehow learned about the incident in science and gotten so worried that he'd come all the way here to make sure I was all right?

In the next second, I felt stupid as I realized that of course it wasn't my dad. An understandable mistake, at least, since this guy was the first person I'd ever seen who was just as huge, just as tall and wide and ridiculously muscular, as my father. ...Maybe even a little more. When he turned around, though, his expression was entirely different. 'Friendly' wasn't quite the right word, because he seemed like a quiet, almost majestic person... Yet there was a deep compassion in his face that made me feel immediately accepted, almost embraced, when he laid eyes on me.

He smiled, and despite the unusually sharp teeth that peeked through his lips, that smile took my breath away with its warmth. His eyes were just as warm, despite being a striking, icy shade of aquamarine. It was a credit to the power of his smile that I only belatedly noticed his unusual skin. It was like he had vitiligo, but the patches were dark on his paper-white flesh instead of the other way around, and the markings, despite being skin pigmentation rather than ink, were a little too orderly to look natural.

"So," he said in a very deep voice, so commanding despite its warmth that it seized 100% of my attention. "You're young Hadley Vast?"

My mouth was almost too dry to answer audibly. "Y-Yes." I cleared my throat. "My mother is Valka."

"Ah." He inclined his head slightly. "Valka is an honored friend of my people. Son of Valka, I apologize on behalf of my son for frightening you."

"I-It's fine." I tried to smile, feeling like an idiot. "I just...I just wish I knew what made him so mad, so I can...not do it next time."

The man - Alfred Wilder, I gathered - moved toward me. Although he was halfway across the room, it only seemed to take him a step or two to reach me. He laid his huge hand on my head, and I automatically closed my eyes and relaxed so deeply under its pleasantly cool weight that I realized how tense I'd been before. I wanted to rest under his touch forever, like a dog lying content at its master's feet.

After an endless moment, Alfred Wilder made a soft "Ah" sound in his deep voice. He removed his hand, and I caught myself staring longingly after it. He graced me with another extraordinary smile. "You did nothing wrong. I'll need to have a careful talk with my son." He stepped back and inclined his head again. "Farewell, Hadley Vast." He moved back to the secretary he'd been talking to before I'd shown up. "As I was saying," he told her, "that won't be a problem. Just send me the bill and I'll see that it's taken care of." I crept up shyly beside him, just close enough to drop my form onto the secretary's desk, then turned and fled. Alfred Wilder had an amazing presence, but it seemed to be the kind one could only handle in small doses at first. Despite feeling weirdly elated, I also wanted to burst into tears, and the last thing I wanted to do was to start bawling where anyone could see me.

 _To be continued..._

A/N: WHY AM I POSTING A NEW MULTICHAPTER WIP I'LL PROBABLY NEVER FINISH WHEN I HAVE _SO MUCH OTHER STUFF_ TO WORK ON? Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

 **As always, the HiccTooth in this story will be of a "platonic soulmates" nature. (When I write "put one story's characters into another story's plot" fics like this, I really enjoy making the story work when the romantic relationship is replaced with a platonic one.)** Astrid will be in this fic (if I make it that far), but I don't know yet if the HiccStrid will be romantic or platonic.

 **The name "Max" is what I call Toothless in modern AUs because of a spoiler about him in the HTTYD book series.**

I think it's fairly safe to say now that my writing muse is _finally_ back. It was easy to write this long chapter in one sitting, and I've got the third "Do Over" vignette outlined and ready to draft, which I'll hopefully do later today or tomorrow.

...I think this is the first time in my entire life that I've actually enjoyed describing characters' physical appearances. XD XD XD I wonder why. (Ftr, I commissioned Medli45 to design semi-human versions of Toothless's troop, originally for my HSRMO AU. In this fic, they masquerade as fully human rather than semi-human, and some of the details are different, but Medli's designs still give a good idea what they look like. You can check them out in her DeviantArt gallery.)


	2. Chapter 2

_**Firelight**_ **, a DreamWorks' How to Train Your Dragon fusion fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **Chapter 2 (rough draft)**

The next day was a little better - it wasn't _quite_ so hot, and Fish and I talked easily at school as if we'd been friends for weeks. Scott tried to bully me again before class started, but I pretended that I was as unbothered by my nickname as Fish was of his, and was rewarded when Scott's attempted taunts about it fell a little flat. A lot of people called me Hiccup from then on, but usually the same way my parents did, as if it really was just a name rather than the insult Scott tried to make it.

When Scott tried to throw me to the wolves again at lunch, I came to a decision and leaped right up onto the table like an idiot, pretending to be horsing around. That brought the teachers over a lot quicker than they'd come the day before. Though they lectured me about appropriate behavior in the cafeteria, Scott's gang couldn't hold me captive right under their noses, so I was able to walk away when the teachers let me go. A lot of kids were watching me contemptuously, but I cared more about the admiring expression on Fish's face as he met me by one of the food lines. "You're really something, man."

"Gotta take care of myself, since I've got no one else to help me out." I raised an eyebrow meaningfully as I spoke. Fish blushed and fidgeted, but I didn't push him further, and a few minutes later we were talking enjoyably about past experiences in our respective school robotics clubs.

My biggest problem was the dread I felt about science class. I'd spent much of the previous evening brainstorming anti-Scott strategies, but I had no idea how to handle someone like Max. I still didn't know why he hated me so much, and I hadn't come up with any plan of response if he gave in to his apparent desire to rip my limbs off my body. I could tell just by looking at him that I didn't have a chance of even defending myself against him in a fight... Maybe the teacher would let me switch seats with someone whose mere presence didn't send Max into a homicidal rage?

It was a huge relief when I cringed into the classroom and discovered that Max wasn't even there. (The plywood still was, though.) I'd noticed he hadn't been with his distinctive flock of siblings at lunch, but figured he might have just had other plans. However, it looked like he wasn't even at school today at all. ...He couldn't have skipped school solely to avoid me, right? I likely wasn't even on his mind at all. He was probably just either sick at home or happily lounging around an alley somewhere with a cigarette, or whatever kids who played hooky did.

He didn't show up late for class, either, and by the time science was over, I was feeling a lot better. I was almost cheerful as I started walking to the grocery store after school - I'd arranged to meet Mom there so she could drive me and the food home before returning to work. I wasn't a great cook or anything, but I knew how to use a stove and follow recipes, and I'd done a lot of the cooking at Dad's. I technically didn't mind eating takeout every night, but it made me feel sorry for my mom to see how normal that was for her, and her eyes had shone with gratitude and affection when I'd offered to start making real meals for us.

Mom helped me put the groceries away and then left again with the dogs, this time on horseback. I hadn't thought to bring a cookbook with me when I moved here, but there were a few things I knew how to cook without recipes. Those could tide us over until I had a chance to stop by a bookstore.

I got some rice going and then started chopping vegetables, glad that Gruff and Thump were around to make the house feel less lonely. When dinner was at the point where it didn't need my active involvement anymore, I called Gobber. I hadn't really had any friends in Berk, so not counting my dad, Gobber was the only person I missed, and it was good to hear his voice. He happened to be visiting Dad at the moment and handed the phone to him at the very end, but although Dad sounded like he'd wanted to talk to me, neither of us actually knew what to say.

"...How are you liking it down there?"

"It's fine. Really hot, though."

"Yeah. It's hot in Helheim's Gate."

"Mm-hm."

"..."

"..."

"So...how's your mother?"

"She's good. She has a lot of animals." Thump was currently making chittering sounds as if imitating me.

"She always did have a soft spot for them."

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"..."

"...Well, uh...I'll let you get back to Gobber."

After I got off the phone with them, I spread my schoolwork across the kitchen table. I worked on it as I kept an eye on dinner, and was still doing that when Mom finally returned. The dogs swarmed ahead of her, Lump dancing around me in excitement and Rumpus making a playful snap at the indignant Thump before joining him.

Mom followed after she'd hung up her bag and pulled off her boots with a relieved sigh. "Hello, sweetie- Er, Hiccup."

I smiled, not minding the endearment but feeling too awkward to say so. "Hi, Mom."

"Mmm." She sniffed appreciatively. "What's that?"

"Just some rice and ground beef, nothing fancy. And salad, sort of."

"It smells wonderful! Let me see to the animals, and then we can eat."

The rest of the week started to fall into a routine. I went quickly from being The New Kid to just being Hiccup. Fish and I made plans to start work on a joint project we had ideas for, and Scott, despite continuing obligatory gibes, started to get bored with me, to my extreme relief. The broken window was mended properly and Max Fury continued to be absent from school, though I noticed his siblings watching me sometimes during lunch, paying attention to me right around the time everyone else was losing interest.

My first weekend in Helheim's Gate was a surprisingly enjoyable one. I met up with Fish after lunch on Saturday to buy materials, then we went to his house, where he had his own workroom in the garage. We spent the rest of the afternoon happily assembling and wiring, and adjusting our blueprints. I couldn't remember why I'd ever had misgivings about Fish Ingerman when we'd first met; he was a really fun guy to hang out with.

The next day, Mom started teaching me how to ride a horse, which wasn't so fun... I did want to learn, and Sailback himself was patient with me, but Mom was awkward and frustrated, though she tried to hide it. It was like she didn't know how to articulate things she knew by instinct and explain them to a beginner. The afternoon was better, though, because I went to buy a decent cookbook and Mom clearly enjoyed my culinary efforts. I wasn't used to being praised, and it felt really good to have a parent's approval, especially after the horseback lessons had made me worry that no matter where I went, I was doomed to constantly fail parental expectations.

By the time Monday rolled around, I hadn't thought about Max Fury in days, so it was kind of a shock to walk into the cafeteria and see him sitting with his siblings at their usual table.

Fish noticed that I'd fallen behind. "What's up?"

"He's...he's here today."

Fish followed my gaze. "Oh. Did you ever find out what you did to tick him off?"

"No..."

"Hmmm."

"He wouldn't _really_ kill me, Fish, right? At least not on school grounds. _Right_?"

"They're just rumors," Fish said encouragingly. "It's bad to make unfounded judgments about people, anyway. Everyone probably just has it in for Max because he's different. I'm sure he's actually totally normal."

"He did jump through a closed window, though..."

"Um...well, he's probably _mostly_ normal," Fish tried, but did not sound convincing. "Maybe you can ask the teacher to let you change seats?"

"I will definitely ask." Preferably before Max even showed up. Or maybe I'd get lucky and he'd cut class.

I kept an eye on Max during lunch, trying not to look like I was. He seemed to be in a better mood today than he'd been before, joining in the conversation at his table and getting into enthusiastic, noisy arguments (in a foreign language) with Fang more than once. Unfortunately, I caught him staring at me a few times...but at least his expression wasn't quite hostile today. A little too intense, but not hateful or malicious. Then usually Mila or Fang would regain his attention, and he'd break off staring at me to banter with them.

Despite Max's improved mood, I was still really nervous going to science afterward. He wasn't there when I came in, and I hoped he really would skip class, but he showed up before I had a chance to talk to the teacher. I didn't want him to overhear me asking for a different seat, so I hastily swerved toward our shared table, my back creeping as I sensed him following right behind me.

I avoided eye contact and kept what I hoped was a neutral expression on my face as I sat down, trying to look busy getting out my notebook and pencils. Maybe today would just be as normal as it was supposed to have been that first day. Maybe he'd ignore me, and I wouldn't bother him, and I'd take notes on the lesson and he'd stare boredly out the window, and we'd stay out of each other's way and lead happy, healthy, completely separate lives-

"Hello."

His voice was accented and passably friendly. I dared to meet his eyes, and found him staring at me in a way that was too intent, but at least not murderous.

"Hi," I said cautiously.

He thrust his hand toward me. I jumped, but he didn't touch me, just held his arm extended in an expectant way. "Shake my hand," he commanded.

"Uh..." I did so. His grip wasn't _too_ tight, and not nearly as painful as my father's. "Nice to meet you." All nice and fairly normal...until he dragged my captive hand toward his nose, closed his eyes, and sniffed my skin.

...Crap.

"He-e-ey, so, can I, uh, can I, um, have my hand back?"

He bared a set of startlingly blunt teeth at me as if he was an alien who had _almost_ mastered the art of smiling, then released my hand after a noticeable pause. I tried and failed not to jerk it back too quickly. I shot him a smile in self-defense and then turned firmly back to my notebook, hoping that would be the end of it.

"My name is Max Fury," he announced, a little too aggressively.

"I'm Hadley Vast," I mumbled without looking up. "Or Hiccup. Hadley. Whichever."

There was an unnerving silence. I looked up before I could stop myself, and was horrified to see an expression of thunderous confusion on his face. "Name?" he demanded.

"Uh...d-do you want to call me Hadley or Hiccup? Either one is fine, it's totally fine, whichever you want. You can call me whatever you want." He could call me Snotface for all I cared, as long as it kept him happy and nonviolent.

"Hic-cup," he said experimentally. "Hikkkkkup? Hiccup." He giggled, apparently taken with the sound of my nickname. "Hic~cup. Hiccup!"

...Off his rocker.

 _'Or maybe autistic?'_ it suddenly occurred to me. I relaxed a little. That might explain a bit, and would be easier to deal with.

"This one is Hiccup," Max mused to himself, then added something in that foreign language of his.

I took the opportunity to study his body art in a way I hadn't had the chance to do before. None of the marks, as far as I could tell, were pictures or words, but they had suggestive shapes that made me sure they were symbolic. They were both beautiful and painful to look at, and I debated whether I dared ask him if the scars had been made with his consent. Either way, it must have hurt so, so much to be burned like that, and so many _times_ \- there were marks on all four of his limbs and even a couple on his neck and face; I was certain there were more concealed by his clothing.

Class started before I'd made up my mind. Max rested his head on his arms, his body angled a little too close to mine, and gazed vaguely into the distance, occasionally whispering my name to himself. I really, really hoped it was something like autism, and not a more sinister obsession. ...Or uncomfortable attraction. I was definitely straight, and I balked at the thought of having to turn down someone who might react very badly to rejection. I'd have to ask Fish about it later.

After the opening activities were over, we had a lab assignment. Max made no move to help, just watched me as I fiddled with the microscope and slides we'd been given. Even though we were partners, I decided pretty quickly that I'd rather do all the work and let him copy my paper than try to make him do anything he did not want to do. At the same time, I didn't want to offend him in case he did want to be involved for some reason, so after I'd written the first answer on my paper, I nudged the microscope slightly toward him. "Did you want to take a look?"

"I'm looking," he said, glancing perfunctorily at the microscope.

"...I mean...at the slide." Whatever. "You don't have to, I just thought I'd ask." I changed the slide. I peered into the microscope and was adjusting the focus when the hairs on the back of my neck started standing up. I suddenly realized that Max's head was leaning _right next to mine_. The second I realized his, I felt his hair brush my face, but the next instant I'd instinctively jerked back, leaning so far away in my chair that the arm I braced against the table nearly fell off the edge.

Max stared at me.

"Umm...sorry, you just - surprised me." I managed a weak chuckle. "You want to take this one?" I gestured, trying to sound friendly.

He frowned at the microscope. "This one?"

It slowly began to dawn on me that he might not know how to use a microscope. "Yeah...um, look."

Once I'd finally gotten him positioned right, he gasped and leaped away from the instrument even more dramatically than I had. "THAT THING!" He shouted at the top of his voice. Everyone in the room abruptly went quiet and stared at us, then a few people giggled.

"Quiet down, Max," the teacher said.

Max jabbed his finger at the microscope. "BLACK AND THEN ORANGE. NOW BLACK AGAIN."

...He really, really did not know how microscopes worked. "Look, Max," I said, trying _not_ to sound like I was crooning to a scared dog. "Let me explain. Come over here and I'll show you again."

When he finally understood, he got such a kick out of the extreme shift in views that he wouldn't let me change the slide. As he was peering yet again into the eyepiece and laughing, I shot a desperate glance at the teacher. I was surprised and relieved when the man inclined his head in an understanding way.

We spent most of the rest of the period playing with the microscope. Now that Max was actually talking to me, he was surprisingly childish. His energy and ignorance and sense of wonderment and casual invasion of my personal space was disconcerting in someone his age, but I supposed it was much preferable to the mysterious rage he'd directed at me last week. Although really weird, he didn't seem like a bad guy.

Near the end of class, he pouted briefly after the teacher wrestled the microscope away from him, but then went back to staring at me as intently as he had at the beginning. He didn't seem to have anything to pack up, so he just sat there with his body angled rigidly toward me like a pointer dog. I tried to pretend I didn't notice, taking longer than necessary to put my things into my backpack.

"Hiccup."

I glanced at him warily. "Yeah?"

"Hic-cup~"

Just more sound-play, I guess.

"One Who Hiccups? This is your name?"

"I was a preemie," I explained. "I was so tiny when I was born that my dad called me their little hiccup, and the name kind of stuck."

Max seemed far more confused by the explanation than he had been before.

"Because, you know...hiccups are small? And I was small. So..."

"One Who Is Small." His face cleared. "This name I understand." He giggled, and then, to my alarm, he put his arms around me and gingerly squeezed. "This little one, One Who Is Small, Hiccup!"

People were watching us and laughing again. My face was bright red, and right when I made up my mind to struggle free and hope he didn't get mad, the bell rang. "I have to get to my next class," I gasped, tugging, and was glad when he let me go. He followed me closely to the classroom door, where I jerked to a halt in surprise. All five of his siblings were waiting for us in the hallway - it was a little scary walking out into that ring of intent stares.

Max barreled past me and threw himself into Mila's arms, jabbering foreign words into her shoulder as she crooned to him. "You're still alive," Fang remarked to me, which was super-disturbing, but I was distracted from pondering the implications because Stormy came right up to me and took my face between her hands, studying me like I was some kind of lab specimen. I shifted uncomfortably, unable to break her grip and weirded out by the way she, too, seemed to have no sense of personal boundaries. It didn't help that my classmates were all crowding behind me, unable to leave the room and whispering excitedly about the Wilders.

The teacher yelled something, and in the next second, Stormy let go of me without a word and swung away. The whole strange group made their way down the hall, Mila having to drag Max because he was staring after me again. "Hiccup!" he called.

I stumbled as my classmates pushed past me, causing a bottleneck in the classroom door. When I was finally clear and able to look up again, the Wilders were long gone.

 _To be continued..._

A/N: I deliberated whether to have Hiccup look up recipes on his phone, but then decided against it. The books were written before smartphones were widespread, so I thought it felt more right to set this fic in the same timeframe.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Firelight**_ **, a DreamWorks' How to Train Your Dragon fusion fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **Chapter 3 (rough draft)**

I was getting used to having to sleep with animals... This time I awakened to find Gruff curled up on my chest. I wouldn't have minded if it hadn't been so _hot_ , gaahh- Where were these sentient little bed warmers back in Berk where I'd actually needed them?

"Can't deny you're a cutie, though," I murmured as I caressed Gruff's head and scratched behind his ears. He started purring without bothering to open his eyes.

That day, I learned something about really hot, dry places: apparently, because precipitation is so infrequent, no one knows how to drive in the rain. We passed two or three car accidents on the way to school. One of those accidents had happened right in the entrance to the school parking lot, so after a very long wait in a growing line of backed-up cars, the bus driver finally just let us out right where we were.

I crossed the parking lot with everyone else, hood up and head down in defense against the rain, since I didn't have an umbrella. My thoughts were idle. I knew I hadn't forgotten anything I needed...Fish probably had half a notebook full of whatever he'd been so excited about yesterday...I wondered if this would be a Scary Max Day or a Weird Max D-

There was a shrill screeching sound. I instinctively tensed and looked up-

No car should ever be coming from that direction; some impatient idiot had jumped the curb. Tires had met one of the puddles on the concrete in just the wrong way, the car was fishtailing wildly, narrowly missing a screaming girl-

The angle and- It was not going to miss _me_ -!

I only had time for half a step before the car struck me. Visions of my blood-splattered body on the pavement flashed through my head-

It took me a second to realize that it wasn't the car that had hit me, and that, even though I was now on the ground, I wasn't blood-splattered yet. Someone was-

The out-of-control car smashed into two parked ones. I stared, shaking and unable to believe I wasn't roadkill. I had _seen_ it, it had been heading _straight for me_ , too fast for me to get out of the way-!

" _Mine_." The voice in my ear sent more shudders through me, it was so animalistic and full of rage. I got the impression that the thing crouched over me was a wild tiger, but when I managed to shift my head...

...It was Max. One iron-strong arm was locked around my chest, his other limbs were braced against the pavement in a tiger-like crouch, his body was positioned protectively over mine, and his _face_... His teeth were bared in a ferocious snarl, and he was glaring at the rogue car as if he wanted to rip pieces off of it.

The was a second of eerie silence. I registered in confusion that I was sprawled yards away from where I'd been standing, farther than I thought was possible even if Max had miraculously managed to snatch me out of the way. Then the screaming started up again, and people converged on the car where the driver sat in a daze. They tried to converge on me, too, but the rest of the Wilders were suddenly there, looking so savage that no one dared to get too close.

"M- M-Max..." I was so shaken I could barely even get that one syllable out.

Max scooped me close to his chest in an uncomfortably tight grip, like I was an endangered child or a threatened toy. He crouched in a way that made me wonder wildly if he was about to leap to the top of the nearest building like Superman.

"TOOTHLESS." Stormy's voice cracked like a whip, and Max froze in mid-movement. He snarled, then _ran_ instead, so fast that I couldn't see - between the still-pouring rain and his speed and the way he held me so tightly, my eyes stung, so I shut them and hoped it would all be over soon.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying under the bleachers by the football field. Max crouched over me again in that feral way, staring sharply outward, and the other Wilders were positioning themselves around us. Stormy perched gracefully near the highest bleachers, looking as comfortable sitting on the metal bars as if they were an easy chair. The twins (whose names were Bart and Bell) sat down and started braiding each other's hair. Mila leaned against a post with her arms crossed as if she was resigned to a long wait. Only Fang stayed out in the rain, pacing in a restless, aggressive way, his back hunched and his shoulder blades giving an occasional creepy twitch. All of them seemed like they were guarding something - me? - either for real or in obligatory way, but guarding nonetheless.

I tried to edge away from Max so I could sit up, but he seized my upper arm in a painful grip and shoved me back, barely seeming aware of what he was doing. His eyes, the pupils narrowed to slits in a way I didn't think normal human eyes were capable of, didn't even glance at me.

...Scary Max Day, I guess. Since I apparently wasn't allowed to get up, I made myself as comfortable as I could on the wet ground. I didn't dare speak for a while. After a long time, when the rain started letting up, Fang stopped his pacing and retreated under the bleachers with the rest of us, strategically positioning himself between Stormy and Mila. With the exception of the twins, who eventually fell asleep, the others all kept up their vigil with the patient intensity of soldiers and the stillness of animals.

At last, I couldn't take it anymore. "Max," I whispered, as softly as possible. He didn't react, but his siblings all glanced at me. "...Max," I tried again, just a tiny bit louder.

Max blinked slowly, then looked down at me even more slowly.

"Hey," I said, moving very gradually as I spoke, "so, I'm going to sit up now. Okay?" Our gazes were locked during the entire time I eased myself upright and scooted a more comfortable distance away from him. He didn't speak or move, but his pupils expanded a little until it finally seemed like he was truly regarding me instead of mindlessly fixating on the space I occupied.

Still no one said anything, so finally, I did. "Max. ...Um, thank you, I guess. For saving me from that car." Certainly not for kidnapping me, but I had to be diplomatic here.

I didn't know how to react when a single tear slid down his unchanging expression. After a pause, he raised a slightly shaking hand, then lowered it without touching me.

I flinched when someone behind me - Mila, surprisingly soundless for such a large person - grasped my wrists and held my arms up and out, as if presenting me. She wasn't holding me tightly at all, but I still felt like a doll, knowing it would be impossible for me to break free if I tried. "Safe, Toothless," she said softly.

That was the second time... Was it some sort of private nickname?

Stormy crept up behind Max and whispered into his ear. I thought I heard the word "safe" again, but the rest of it sounded like their own language. Max suddenly shut his eyes, drew in a shuddering breath, then scrambled out from under the bleachers and fled. The twins woke up and peered after him in mild confusion.

"We can _go_ now?" Fang snapped.

"Yes." Mila helped me out into the open, but then, to my consternation, didn't let go of me. Gripping my wrist again, she held it out toward the twins.

They stared and went hyper-still, one of them backing up a step.

"It's all right," Mila said encouragingly. "You won't hurt him."

"Wait, what?" I said in alarm, tugging (vainly, of course) to get free.

She set her other arm around my waist, immobilizing me. It was like being held by an elephant's trunk. "They won't hurt you," she reassured me, still holding my arm stretched out like an offering.

"He'll kill us if we hurt him," the twins protested, creepily in unison. I had the panicked feeling that I was about to be murdered.

"Yes!" Mila said in a _That's the point_ tone. "Motivation to be very good."

Stormy stepped up beside me in a vigilant way. Fang folded his arms and watched, smirking.

I could barely move, my body felt like a twig in Mila's hands, but I struggled anyway. "No, wait! Wait...!"

The twins approached me cautiously, as graceful and dangerous as lions, and I was terrified. I really did feel more like I was cornered by a pack of wild animals than threatened by humans. Something was wrong with this family, _wrong_ , they were too strong, their hands enclosing both of mine were gentle but I couldn't pull away no matter how hard I tried, their teeth were so _sharp_ , no human had teeth that sharp, I _knew_ they were going to bite me, plunge those fangs deep into my skin and rip the veins out of my wrists-

"Meatlug," Stormy said sharply.

"They won't," was the cheery reply.

It had just occurred to me to yell for help - there was not a single normal person in sight, but maybe _someone_ would hear me if I screamed - when the twins exhaled deeply against my skin, again in unison. When they opened their eyes, they seemed somehow a little more human, a little less like animals. "He does smell good," Bart murmured. (At least, I _think_ it was the guy. They both looked so androgynous, I couldn't be sure.) They finally let go of my hands, but with Mila's arm around me, I still couldn't move. Bell moved even closer to me, brushing aside my hands as if she barely even noticed me frantically trying to push her away. Then her lips came to rest against my throat, and the terror was so overwhelming that I froze.

 _'They're vampires.'_ Impossible, of course, but then there were a lot of things about these strange, strange people that made more sense if they weren't human. And with those razor-sharp teeth a hair's breadth from my jugular, I couldn't get the Dracula image out of my head. _'They're going to kill me_ and _suck me dry.'_ My panic was definitely not helping; the way she was pressed against me, even a human would be able to detect my racing heartbeat and pulse.

Her breath against the skin of my neck made me shiver. "He resisted this," she whispered. "Even though it's _worse_ for him." Finally, _finally_ , she leaned back and smiled, and she and her brother grasped hands, and at _last_ Mila let go of me so that she and Stormy could congratulate the giddily happy twins on not killing me, or whatever it was they were so pleased about.

I tried to make a run for it, but Fang caught me and swung me up over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. "What time is it?" he asked the others, who all ignored him. "What _time_ is it?"

"It's time for me to get to class," I snapped, fruitlessly kicking.

"I _know_ ," he said in exasperation, then laughed and dipped my weight back and forth, making me yelp in surprise. "You _are_ small, even for a- one of you."

"For a human?" I challenged wildly. "I'm small even for a human, right? That's what you were going to say?!"

"Like a hatchling." Then he started striding off toward the buildings with me still hanging over his shoulder.

"Put me down!"

When Fang finally deposited me in the classroom I insisted I was supposed to be in and then left, I was surprised to find that not as much time had passed as I thought. Emergency vehicles were still in the parking lot; teachers were still rounding up students and herding them to class. The administration hadn't even finished preparing to search for me yet.

I spent a long time in the front office, trying to convince everyone that I hadn't been injured at all in the accident, and that I would have been back sooner if the Wilders hadn't been holding me captive by the football field. The Wilders eventually got hauled into the office, but Max wasn't with them. I stiffened and stood up, wondering if I should run, but even though they glanced at me, none of them seemed to care about me anymore. The twins looked really happy, leaning against each other with content smiles on their faces. Before now, I hadn't even known they _could_ smile, they'd seemed so tense and edgy all the time.

Then Alfred Wilder arrived, and I was surprised when he barely spared a glance for his own children and instead came straight to me. "Are you all right?" he demanded.

I would have answered him anyway, but the force of his presence made me gasp out a reply as if it was air being pressed out of my lungs. "I'm fine. I'm not hurt. Max saved me." He cupped both hands around the back of my head, and I felt myself melting again into a content, safe-feeling, almost docile state. I felt as tiny as a kitten in his hands. I watched him gazing at me with an intent frown, until he sighed and let go of me. I sank into the chair behind me, blinking, unsure how to feel now that I was a tiny bit less overwhelmed. It wasn't...normal for a human being to have such an enormous effect on people, was it...?

Then he turned to his kids, who all stiffened like children who had been caught at something they had a feeling they shouldn't have been doing. It was the first time I had seen any of the Wilders look like they were out of their depth, and I smiled a little vengefully.

He barked something at them in their own language. Fang burst out in a flurry of words, his tone defensive and his expression defiant even though he was edging farther and farther behind Mila. Mila looked like she was about to cry, and Stormy had gone very still and small-looking. Only the twins looked somewhat calm, and when it was their turn to chorus explanations, their father paused and looked thoughtful. The others all jumped in eagerly, and for a minute I didn't know how Alfred could understand anything with the five of them all babbling at once.

He held up his hand, and they all went silent. Then he turned to the hovering principal. "I'm going to take my children home now." He glanced over at me and nodded. "I'm glad you're safe, Hiccup." He blinked and amended, "Hadley."

"You can call me Hiccup if you want," I said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. For some reason, despite Alfred's immensity and elegance, my silly nickname sounded more natural in his voice than my real name did.

He smiled at me, and it was like being graced by a beautiful cool breeze. "Hiccup, then. Fare well." The strange family left, making the room feel small and dull without them. I sighed, and didn't know if it was in relief or regret. They were so _weird_ and scary, but so freaking interesting when they weren't kidnapping me or threatening to bite me...

 _To be continued..._

A/N: **There is a misunderstanding here about Bart's & Bell's names which I will clear up in a later chapter.**

Where I live, people are often dumber drivers than usual in the rain, and NO ONE knows how to drive on the once-in-a-blue-moon occasions we get ice. X'D (We never have real snow, ever.)


	4. Chapter 4

_**Firelight**_ **, a DreamWorks' How to Train Your Dragon fusion fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **Chapter 4 (rough draft)**

A/N: Sorry for the delay; I've been sucked into a gigantic new fandom (Batman and his adorable, super-cool baby robins) and enjoying updates to my old ones (some new books came out this summer, and now there's _Voltron season 3_ , aaahhh!), so I've been neglecting the Internet and writing (as well as real life priorities X'''D)...! But today I didn't have Internet access for six hours, so I figured I ought to seize the opportunity to write a new chapter. :)

o.o.o

"Mom?" I asked that night during dinner, "What do you know about the Wilders?"

I wasn't expecting the weird look she gave me - tense, nervous, a little defensive, as if I'd said something borderline insulting. "Why do you want to know?" she asked flatly.

I held up my hands. I hadn't intended to make her angry at me, I'd only wanted to get more information. "I was just curious, it's not a big deal. Never mind."

"Did you hear something about them?" she asked sharply. "Some rumor?"

She wasn't letting me escape. "No, no, no. I just...I go to school with them, and..."

She stared at me.

"I'm sorry. I was just curious...but not that curious. I don't care. Nice, normal kids, totally, everything's great." I cast around for something else reassuring to say, disgusted that I couldn't keep my voice under control. The panicked undercurrent was probably making things worse. "I'm probably going to go to bed soon," I tried.

Mom made a visible effort to calm herself. "No, no, it's all right, I...I just..." She drew in a deep breath, then smiled at me. It looked forced. "I know Alfred Wilder's family. They're good people. A little odd, but..." She seemed to struggle with herself. "What did you hear?"

It took me a while to figure out how much to tell her. "It's just...you know, it was raining this morning, and...uh..." There was an awkward pause. Finally, I decided to just go for it. "People say the Wilder kids are dangerous," I blurted in a rush, "but those are just rumors, right? People making up stories about a group that doesn't fit in?"

She was quiet for a long moment. "Do they not fit in?" she finally asked, sounding a little sad.

"..."

She sighed. "They're trying, Hiccup. They don't mean any harm."

"...Mom. Are they dangerous?"

She looked at me, then frowned and leaned a little closer to study my face more intently. "Hiccup, did they do or say anything to upset you?"

"Ummm...I mean, they...they _did_ probably save my life, but afterward-"

"Saved your life?!"

I told her about the car. She looked horrified and lunged closer to me, nearly grabbing me but stopping herself just in time. "I'm all right, Mom, really! I told you, Max pulled me out of the way."

"Oh! Oh, goodness, I..." She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands.

"You can hug me, you know..." I didn't particularly need a hug, but I didn't mind getting one, and she looked like she really needed the reassurance.

Sure enough, she embraced me tightly, and sat there holding me for a long time. "I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered.

"Yeah. Me, too." Thankfully, she seemed distracted from whatever had bothered her so much about me asking about the Wilders.

The next day at school, I got more attention than usual for a few hours because of my near-accident and abduction, but people were already starting to turn to the next big topic of interest, which was the upcoming girls' choice dance. Fish mumbled about it all morning, constantly showing me the stats he was compiling about various girls and the probability he had of being asked out by each one of them.

I tried to be sympathetic and encouraging, but honestly, the topic couldn't keep my attention. I liked girls just fine, thought about them sometimes and definitely appreciated a nice body when I saw one, but the whole romance scene didn't quite feel real or relevant to me yet. I _did_ want to get married someday, but I got the sense that I'd have to be a lot older and cooler before any girl worth dating would look twice at me. (Or, actually, any girl, period.) High school was probably the last place I'd ever find a girl who'd be interested in spending time with me. That was a little depressing, but I tried not to think about it too much, and until I figured out how to be more attractive to the opposite sex and less...me, I had other interests that called more strongly for my attention.

"I'm sure you'll find someone, Fish. I'll be your wingman if you want."

"Really?!"

"Don't get excited, though. This is not exactly my area of expertise."

"Hmm, I know it's girls' choice, but do you think anyone would _really_ mind if I made the first move? You know, if they're taking a little too long, and, like, the deadline's coming up...?"

We were still, unfortunately, talking about it off and on by the time lunch rolled around. "Don't give up so soon, Hiccup!" Fish was saying as we brought our trays to an empty table. "We'll find you a date for sure, and even if not, you can still come solo."

"I'd feel kind of lame coming all by my-"

Chair legs scraped across the linoleum all around us; an army of trays thumped onto the tabletop alongside ours; the air was full of loud voices and gesturing limbs.

"...dare you to try it when Alfred's not looking, Fang-"

"There you are, Bell, dear; would you like me to-?"

"You have a feather caught in your hair, Max."

"Stormf- Stormy, one of your not-treasures is coming off."

Fish and I sat frozen in shock as the Wilders settled around us like a flock of noisy birds. None of them were paying actual attention to us, except that Max casually flung an arm around my shoulders as he bickered with Fang. Mila was brushing at a twin's face like a fussy mother, breaking the guy's intense stare at Fish and me; he closed his eyes and leaned a little closer to her. The other twin was fiddling with a loose rhinestone on Stormy's arm, as Stormy herself picked a feather out of Max's hair and brushed a bit of reddish-brown crust away from the corner of his mouth. They were all so _touchy_ , it suddenly made me wonder if the way they'd manhandled me the day before had just been normal interaction for them.

"What is happening," Fish whispered.

Mila smiled at him. "Hello. We will eat lunch with you today."

Fang grinned and picked a french fry off of Fish's tray, popping it in his mouth while maintaining eye contact. Fish whimpered a little, but said nothing. Fang frowned and reached for another fry until Stormy lightly smacked his hand. Then she looked straight at Fish and said coldly, "Defend your food."

Fish made a strangled sort of noise, but didn't do anything when Fang reached out yet again. I pulled Fish's tray away and held my arm protectively over it. "You've got two whole trays of your own," I pointed out.

The Wilders all went silent for a moment, staring at me in surprise, which unnerved me. Then Fang grinned again. "The weaker one defends for both?"

I gritted my teeth, but decided to ignore the insult. "There's more than enough here for everyone to eat. No one needs to steal anything."

The Wilders all looked at each other like this was a strange but intriguing foreign concept. Then Mila put one of her trays in the middle of the table and waited expectantly. Her siblings stared at it. Then Max announced, "That is Mila's food. Only Mila will touch it."

They all burst into laughter as if it had been a hilarious joke. Fish and I exchanged a mystified look.

"But," Fang complained, setting a fingertip to the table and tracing a sort of boundary around Mila's tray, "only words to mark it! Doesn't work."

"That is my tray," Mila said. The Wilders paused again, this time in a dissatisfied way. Then Mila picked up her tray and touched her tongue to the edge while she carefully rotated it, licking around its entire perimeter. She set it back down in the middle of the table. Her siblings all exclaimed in approval and then dug into their own meals as if the matter had been settled. "That is Mila's food," Stormy murmured.

"Mila's food," Fang agreed.

Fish and I gaped at each other in silent agreement. _'THESE PEOPLE ARE INSANE.'_

Then I remembered what my mother had said, how the Wilders were trying and didn't mean any harm. Super-weird they undoubtedly were, but they hadn't done anything bad other than steal a french fry or two. "...Hey, so," I said, instantly capturing their attention (except for the twins, who ignored me), "have you guys met my friend? This is F-" I paused, glancing at him to see if he wanted me to introduce him by his real name or his nickname. He nodded slightly. "This is Fish."

The Wilders looked delighted. "Fish?! Your name is Fish?!"

Fish started to mumble nervously, "It's just a ni-"

"Fish is a _good_ name! Very good, the best name you people have."

"Hiccup is a good name," Max said defensively.

"Yes," Mila said soothingly, petting him.

" _Fish_ and _Hiccup_ ," Fang declared, pointing at us proudly. "Very smart. Better than all _them_ over there." He swept his arm out toward the rest of the cafeteria, where a lot of people were staring and whispering about us. "You know what _real_ names are. I am Hookfang! This is Stormfly, Meatlug, Toothless, and Barf/Belch." He pointed at each of his siblings in turn, combining the gesture and names of the twins as if they were one person instead of two.

"N-N-Nice to meet you," Fish said, exchanging another wild look with me.

Max (Toothless?) had been uncomfortably close to me the entire time, the side of his body frequently brushing mine even when he took his arm off my shoulders so he could eat. I tried to edge away once or twice, but he just absently scooted his chair close again, so I gave up. "So...what brings you guys to our table today?" I ventured.

"You are his special thing," one of the twins remarked offhand. "Troops stay together," said the other.

Fish and I glanced at each other yet again. I was alarmed, but this didn't seem to be the right time or place to protest. Just one agitated Wilder was scary enough; I didn't want six on my hands. "So," I said instead, "sorry, you two look really alike; it's...Bart? Barf, I mean... That's you, right?" Bart was a guy's name, but Mila had confused me earlier by looking at him when she said 'Bell.'

"No," Mila corrected. "This one is Belch." She was indicating the guy. "Bell to camouflage. This here is Barf," she gestured at the girl twin, "Bart to camouflage."

The look I exchanged with Fish this time was resigned. "Welp...that's probably the least weird thing about you guys, so..." I didn't say it loudly, but I didn't whisper, either, and I was tense as I wondered whether they'd take offense or not.

None of them even glanced up from their food except for Stormy - or Stormfly, whatever - who frowned at me. "Weird thing? We are strange?"

"...Yeah. You guys are all really, really weird."

This time they all paused, but they looked more glum than anything else. For some reason, Fish seemed compelled to make them feel better. "But don't worry, it's okay! You guys are all, um, nice! Hey, come to think of it..." He eyed the girls apprehensively for a minute, then took a breath and decided to plunge in. "I don't suppose any of you ladies would be interested in attending the dance, would you?"

None of them knew what we were talking about. After we'd explained it (the basic concept of school dances, not just the fact that Fish was asking them out), Stormy screwed up her face in disgust and returned to her food. Bart - the girl twin - ignored us entirely, and Fang laughed and offered to be Fish's date.

"Ummmmmmmmmm, well, umm, that's really nice of you, but, uh, it's, you know, girls' choice, so...!"

"I am female," Mila said warmly. "I choose you to 'dance,' with, One Who Eats Fish."

Fish stared at her. Then his face lit up, and he said shyly, "Really?"

"Oh, he is so _cute_!" she shrieked, pouncing on him to hug him tight. Fish yelped, but didn't seem entirely displeased.

Stormy sighed and looked at me. "You want a female, too?"

"No, I'm good," I said quickly. I would have agreed if she'd looked like she actually wanted to go, but I preferred to stay home than have a date who'd rather be anywhere else than dancing with me. "I'm probably not even going to go to the dance, anyway."

The bell rang soon after that. The last glance Fish and I exchanged was one of amazement that we'd survived a lunch period with the Wilders.

 _To be continued..._

A/N: **I will not be romantically shipping Meatlug & Fishlegs.** (...Probably.) **Mila's attraction to him is purely platonic.**

This chapter strayed a lot from the book, and geez... I'd been at least partially enjoying my re-read of the book this fic is based on, but now that the romance is in full swing, everything I'd liked about the story is gone. DX Reading that book is getting hard to slog through now.


End file.
